


That's A Wrap

by Princess of Geeks (Princess)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: AU, First Time, M/M, Modern Day Setting, Romance, safe sex, virgin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-14
Updated: 2010-03-14
Packaged: 2017-10-07 23:54:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/70564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princess/pseuds/Princess%20of%20Geeks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU in which Jack is the veteran sportscaster at a Denver television station, Daniel the new pretty face on the news desk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sid](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Sid).



It wasn't so much what the new guy said. It was how he said it.

When Jack had gotten back to Denver from his yearly fishing vacation, right on his normal schedule -- after the Stanley Cup but before baseball had really gotten interesting -- Parker was gone and it was one Daniel Jackson on the set beside Margaret for both the five and the ten o'clock newscasts.

Before his vacation, Jack, station veteran that he was, with a great gossip network hooked all the way into the front office, had had intimations that Parker's days were numbered. So he really wasn't surprised to see the change when he got back from Minnesota, tanned and self-satisfied with all the bass he'd caught.

He was actually kind of glad he missed Parker's sad farewell, if he was honest with himself. He'd never thought Parker had much on the ball, pretty face though he certainly was, and apparently management eventually had concluded the same thing.

Out with the old, in with the new. They'd moved Margaret over, so that Jackson now had her chair next to Jack and Margaret was in the senior seat, next to Larry the weather geek. Which meant that during the tosses into and out-of sports, it was Jackson who would banter with Jack. Not Margaret any more. Which was also something to be glad about, because she'd sucked at it. She knew zip about sports. Jack had always written lead-ins for her, so she was able to look interested and chuckle in appropriate places, but she never really Got It.

But Jackson got it. Got baseball, anyway.

Jack learned this in stages. That first Monday that Jack was back, Gladys, the producer, interrupting herself, as usual, said to him, "Oh, and yeah -- the new anchor? You'll like him. He can ad-lib."

Jack was mostly thinking about his five-o'clock package on the Rockies' newest players, which he and the chief editor were cutting at the time, so he hadn't paid much attention to her, but sure enough, he learned during the cast -- Jackson could.

That first cast, Jack, just like always, came out to the set during the commercial break before the weather segment, and sat down under the lights and put his mike on. Jackson turned to him and gave him a once-over and a friendly nod, but didn't say a word. Then he turned away to watch Margaret and Weather Geek Guy, leaving Jack with an impression of startlingly blue eyes, and then a nice view of his clean-shaven profile, middle-length sideburns, and an undoubtedly lickable neck.

_Down, boy,_ Jack said to himself. It had been a long three weeks out there with only the fish for company. Great in some ways, definitely worth the solitude, but a little lonely in others. He leaned back in his chair and enjoyed Jackson's profile until it was time for the sports tease -- a couple of words from Jackson about welcoming Jack O'Neill back from vacation, a couple of words from Jack about the future of the Rockies, and they were in the break.

As the commercials before his segment rolled, Jack got treated to more than a friendly nod. He got the new guy's full-bore, movie-star smile, and an actual introduction. It made him warm all over; it made him smile back. And then, almost before he knew it, he was that distracted by the new guy's looks, the floor chief was cueing the sports segment. Jackson folded his hands on top of his script and leaned toward Jack. Just before the camera took the two-shot, Jack glanced at the teleprompter. It was blank. No script for Jackson.

"So, rumors of a rebuilding season for the Rockies have been greatly exaggerated?" Jackson said to him, with a conspiratorial curl of his lip, and the question segued perfectly into Jack's scripted lead-in, and all it took was a word or two of agreement, a raised eyebrow exchanged, and they were off.

This could be fun.

The brief and brisk exchange about the NBA at the end of the segment was just as on-target. So, by the end of day one, Jack had learned that the new guy was assertive, quick, intelligent, knew something about baseball and maybe basketball, and that he had a sense of humor. And that he was drop-dead gorgeous.

Definitely fun.

Their paths rarely crossed during the busy afternoons, but Jack found himself looking forward to the two evening casts more than he had in a long time. Daniel always had a perfect, succinct segue for him. Which meant Daniel was reading the sports scripts carefully. And within a few days, if a cast ran short, Gladys was giving the two of them the extra time to fill, and letting them cheerfully argue about baseball or basketball or the Weird Obscure Sport of the Day and entertain the audience nicely. Once or twice they even made the jaded denizens of the floor crew laugh. Daniel, like Jack, could fill ten seconds or sixty with equal aplomb. Yes, it was fun.

Jack was amazed, really. It had been a while since someone this good had joined the staff. Anchors had to do a lot of multitasking, just by the nature of the job. They had to think about what had just happened, what was about to happen, and listen to the producer, and read, and talk, and emote appropriately -- six things or more at once. This meant that the attention they paid each other on the set was essentially a performance, as was the attention they paid to the camera -- the illusion of connecting personally with the audience at home. But despite the necessity of that performance, there was something present and vital about Daniel.

Some anchors were barely able to notice their surroundings, their multitasking was so frantic. Not Daniel. His attention was powerful; if he met your eyes, he made you feel like you were the only person in the room, made you feel that you were really mattering to him. That he was really listening. Jack liked that.

And the camera loved him. Jack could see very readily why he'd been hired, and why the front office was claiming he was already so popular. Daniel had a rare quality of authenticity, of directness, in a profession filled with people who pretended to know what they were talking about, and pretended to care, while what they were really doing was plotting their next promotion or their move to the next bigger market. Daniel had none of that. Daniel seemed ... genuine. Jack liked that. Alot. And furthermore, he didn't think he was imagining the reality of the pleasure Daniel seemed to take in working with him. That, Jack was pretty sure, wasn't a performance either.

Late Friday night of Daniel Jackson's second week, Jack found himself at a big table in the familiar, cool semidarkness of Sidelines, surrounded by big screens showing a Rockies road game, seated with a knot of photographers and reporters, with Daniel, as it happened, at his elbow. He poured his refill from the pitcher of dark beer, Jack noticed.

"Don't you find that stuff a bit sweet?" Jack said, drinking from his own beer glass. Was it his imagination, or was Daniel watching his mouth?

"I like it better," Daniel said. "It reminds me of caramel. The good dark beers do, anyway."

"Ah, dessert beer! Of course. Very efficient," Jack returned, and made Daniel laugh. The guy really did have a smile that would light up a room. And as the evening went by, and the talk turned from baseball to fishing to travel to politics to station gossip, Daniel stayed. Right there. By Jack. Even when the reporter to his left got up to go, and he could have slid into the empty chair to be closer to the single and gorgeous and female political reporter. Surely that meant... Maybe that meant?

It encouraged Jack even more that Daniel kept on staying until it was just the two of them, still talking, over empty baskets that had held burgers and fries, a half-full pitcher between them, while the game on the TV screens wound, ignored, into its final inning.

Daniel was rambling about the recycling scandal that had city hall on its ear that week, leaning a cheekbone on his fist, leaning in, intent, _involved_, focusing his full attention on Jack like he'd done all night, letting Jack bask in the glow of his company, and when there was a pause in the conversation, Jack couldn't take it any more and he blurted: "Are we flirting? Or is this just, you know, how you always act when you meet someone new."

And immediately regretted it, because Daniel's face closed down; all his animation left, and he sat up straight and cupped his hands around his empty glass and said, "You thought I was coming on to you. God, I apologize; I, ah, I didn't mean to. I didn't mean anything by it at all. I apologize."

Jack, before he could stop himself, put a hand on Daniel's arm. His own eyes were wide. _Way to go, O'Neill. The finesse of a linebacker._

What he said out loud was, "Wait. Let me try that again."

Daniel didn't look at him. He'd gone very still at Jack's light touch on his arm, his hands still cupped around his empty glass, scraps of foam clinging to the inside of it.

Jack took a deep breath. It never got easier, this reveal. There was always that deep-seated, residual stab of fear of the downside of being wrong, the recognition of the risk being taken, even though the benefits when right were so very nice. He said, "Ah, big miscommunication."

Daniel still wouldn't look at him, but he hadn't moved his arm from under Jack's hand either. Daniel said, wryly, "And we're trained professionals and all."

It made Jack smile. It broke the tension. Jack pressed his tongue against his teeth for a second, trying to make sure he had the right words. "Okay. So. I'm gay, if you didn't know that already, because I assumed you did, and if you were, in fact, flirting with me, I would like that. A lot."

Daniel looked at him then. He looked astonished. He opened his mouth and closed it. Jack took his hand away. "I don't know what to say," Daniel said, and then winced, probably at how ridiculous it was to say that he didn't know what to say.

Jack blew out a breath and took a second to mentally rehearse his "resigned, calm" tone, and while he did that he poured himself some more beer. "Okay, easily crushed. So, I was wrong. You weren't flirting. No big deal." Jack made himself smile, and lifted his beer to his lips, and at the same time delivered a gentle pat to Daniel's shoulder. He looked away. Important to do that, to stop looking. To put an end to the excitement he'd given in to, to resolutely stop his own flirting, and pull back on the reins.

It would be fine. Daniel probably wasn't the type to hold it against him. He'd said he was from California; he was probably very open-minded, regardless. Not the type to gossip, either, Jack had judged already. And anyway it wasn't his colleagues at work he worried about these days; they knew him. They pretty much kept their dirty laundry inside the business, if being gay could even be considered dirty laundry in this field any more. No, it wasn't TV people he worried about now; though he still did think about the players he had to interview. The crap he could take in locker rooms, the interviews he could lose, if the wrong people gossiped about him in the wrong place.

But so far, he'd been fine. And if things ever got ugly, he'd deal. He'd dealt in Milwaukee and he could deal here.

He pushed aside the usual morass of thoughts, weary already of the "am I passing, will it be okay" tape loop. He looked up at the screen. It was the bottom of the ninth; the Rockies were comfortably ahead, the outcome in no doubt. "Hey, a double play. Take a look."

Daniel, apparently grateful for the change of subject, began talking about the baseball game. And less than an hour later, Jack went home alone.

It was okay.

No, really, it was. Because nothing changed on the set, except that maybe Daniel seemed just a little bit less enthusiastic, a little more reserved, during their obligatory but always enjoyable banter.

Jack shrugged off the rejection, the misunderstanding, put a lock on whatever feelings he'd started to develop, and kept being friendly. And that was it.

Over the next weeks, local baseball got interesting. The Rockies had called up a second baseman from the minors who was stealing a lot of bases and making a name for himself. So that was fun. It was summer. Things were good. Every now and then Jack hit the bars, had some no-strings fun. But it was mostly, as always, about the work.

One September night Jack was in the dressing room after the five, washing off the pancake, and when he straightened to blot at his dripping face, there was Daniel, behind him in the mirror, loosening his tie. Daniel was assigned to the other dressing room, with the rest of the guys from news. So it was a special trip for him, to come over here.

When Jack caught his eye in the bright glass, raising his eyebrows in mild surprise, Daniel said without preamble, "You want to get some dinner?"

And Jack said, "Sure." Daniel stepped closer and leaned over the other sink to wash his face, without another word.

Without their ties and coats, they made their way through the warren of hallways and out the back door of the station. Jack turned up his cuffs as he walked. He needed to do something with his hands. Daniel's were in his pockets.

"I can drive," Daniel said, hesitantly, glancing at Jack, who was trying not to wonder if something was up. Or not.

"Sounds good," Jack said, genially.

Daniel drove a fairly new, largeish blue Honda. Nothing flashy. Just comfortable.

They didn't say much on the way to the restaurant. Daniel picked a quiet, fairly good steakhouse sort of chain on the edge of downtown. Jack didn't know if it was a place Daniel liked or a place Daniel thought Jack might like, or if it was merely convenient. The place was not crowded; it was barely six-thirty.

They ordered water, since they had to work later, and an appetizer, and after the waiter left, Daniel fidgeted with his silverware until Jack took pity on him and began to frame an observation about the Broncos' off-season coaching changes, but Daniel actually interrupted him before he pushed out half a sentence.

The odd thing was, Daniel didn't realize he'd done it. He seemed to be focused on what he'd been thinking. Like he'd been in the car. Jack bit off his half-formed sentence and tilted his head to listen.

Daniel was saying, "I didn't know."

"I beg your pardon?"

Daniel looked pained.

Jack thought back. Daniel must have their last real conversation stuck in his head. Kind of like Jack did, when he admitted to himself that he was still thinking about it. "You didn't know that we were flirting?"

"I didn't know you were gay."

Jack shifted in his chair. Conversational whiplash, but he could go with it. "Oh. Well. Okay. A lot of people don't know; it's not something you necessarily want to advertise, conservative part of the country and all that, but on the other hand it's the 21st century and I'm not in the closet, you know? .... And I do apologize for being wrong about you." Daniel was peering at him, looking genuinely upset. "I don't want you to worry about it, okay? I'm not embarrassed and I don't want you to be."

Daniel nodded. But he didn't look any less upset. He drew breath to speak, but the waiter came back with their appetizer sampler, and he waited until the man had put it down and refilled their water glasses and left again.

"I didn't really mean to get into TV," Daniel said. He picked up some deep-fried cheese and examined it, and popped it into his mouth before he went on. He talked with his mouth full. He didn't seem to notice. Somehow it wasn't messy or rude, the way he did it. "I was studying history, actually. History and languages, and seriously thinking about going into teaching and research, about going to grad school, but there was this interdisciplinary thing at Berkeley where the film and TV students worked with another one of the academic disciplines, and they got me to narrate the program they were doing on the history of the Bay Area, and one thing led to another."

Jack wondered if he were changing the subject. It didn't seem like it, based on his tone, but what did Daniel's career back story have to do with his cluelessness about Jack?

Daniel went on, "I used to wear glasses. The producers for the student shows got me into contacts. They had me do a bunch of documentaries for them, not just voice work, on-camera stuff too, and then they asked me to host a weekly talk show for the student channel, and then my senior year they had me anchoring the news, and there you are."

"Well, they were right to use you. You're good, and you have the right look for TV," Jack observed.

Daniel glanced at him like Jack had lost his mind, but kept talking. "I was 23 years old, trying to decide what grad school to go to, and whether to concentrate on linguistics, modern languages, history, or all three, and I was recruited and offered what to me was an insane amount of money to be weekend anchor at Channel 7."

Jack's eyebrows went up. Going to work straight out of college at a major market station like that was almost unheard of. "Started at the top, did you?"

Daniel's smile was fleeting, but real. "And then two years later, Denver recruits me for weeknights, and here I am."

"Here you are." Jack was still wondering where in the world Daniel was going with this.

"I like Denver. I've settled in here, gotten to know the place a little. But TV.... Well."

"It's a hell of a way to make a living." Jack smiled. He knew exactly what Daniel was trying to find a polite way to say.

Daniel grinned back. "You don't want to seem ungrateful, you know? It matters to people, what I do. I matter to people. To the audience. More than I should. And so, if they pay attention because they like me, if I can get them to care about getting involved in politics, or recycling, or... you know."

"You want to make a difference."

"You make it sound so, so, kum-ba-ya."

"Not at all. I admire your desire to use your influence to improve things around here." Jack sounded sincere, maybe a little formal, and he was. He was serious. He took a drink; tried to collect his thoughts. His attraction for the guy hadn't gone away, he noted, kind of as a passing, barely felt pang. He grabbed a chicken skewer. "But Daniel. Why are you telling me this?"

Daniel put some more appetizers on his own plate and looked down at them. "I spent a lot of time in the library in school. I'm not this hip, connected San Francisco guy you might be assuming I am." He looked up, then, and met Jack's eyes squarely. "I didn't realize I was flirting. And you better let me know if I'm over the line on the set. If you wouldn't mind."

Jack smiled. "Oh, don't worry. Gladys will rein you in if you need it. She knows exactly what she wants."

"That's certainly reassuring." And Daniel was eating again, with an air of moving on, as if he'd said his piece and felt better for it.

They finished their dinner, and moved on to other subjects, and Jack tried not to think about it.

_Not this hip, connected guy...._

He couldn't shake the idea that Daniel had meant to convey more than he really had with that statement.

What was undeniable was that after that conversation, Daniel went back to, well, his previous intensity and interest. Something that Jack had thought was definitely skating the line of flirting. Gladys did no reining in; she liked the chemistry and felt the audience would, too. Their friendship was genuine, and so was their connection. So, Jack let it ride.

Daniel's numbers continued to climb. Management was happy. Everyone was happy. Jack was happy, too. He did try to keep a lid on his feelings. Whether Daniel had made a conscious decision to keep flirting or not, or cared that the other reporters might peg him as gay, or not, Jack couldn't tell. And he tried not to spend too much time wondering whether it was on-set crush flirting, or real flirting, or just Daniel being Daniel.

And luckily, he didn't have to keep telling himself not to think about it. Because it was the time of year when sports got very, very busy. He and Daniel didn't cross paths off the set even under normal circumstances without effort, and this year, the baseball season took a turn that made circumstances anything but normal, and Jack was gone a lot. The Rockies defied the oddsmakers and conducted themselves a textbook Cinderella season, culminating in a trip to the playoffs. Jack pulled rank on the two younger guys in the sports department and got himself assigned to all the road trips and live shots, so there were about three weeks there when he was on the road more than he was home, and the number two sports guy did the casts instead of Jack, and Jack didn't see Daniel at all.

When he came back to Denver, after the Rockies had made a very respectable showing but failed to win the pennant, everyone seemed happy enough to see him. Especially Daniel. So that was a good week, too, basking in the glow of the hometown team's success, happy happy joy joy as far as the eye could see.

When Jack walked into his house, the Friday night of the week his work schedule had gotten back to normal, the phone was ringing. He skipped over and grabbed it before the machine could pick up.

"O'Neill," he said, shrugging out of his suit coat.

"It's Daniel Jackson. From work."

Jack raised his eyebrows. Why would the guy assume Jack wouldn't know who he was immediately? "Hey."

"Listen, ah, would you have dinner with me tomorrow night?"

Jack smiled. He couldn't help himself. He did really like the guy. "Sure. But, I gotta ask. Is this dinner dinner or a date kind of dinner?"

"Uh, can we decide that tomorrow?"

Jack's heartbeat spiked. "Suits me."

"Do you want me to pick you up, or..."

Jack could not stop grinning. "Yeah, definitely, pick me up." And he gave Daniel directions to his house, and then hung up.

He had a date. With Daniel. Whether Daniel wanted to say it out loud or not.

That night when he went to bed, he indulged in something he hadn't let himself do since before their conversation about Daniel's introduction to TV at Berkeley. When he jerked off, leisurely and long, getting out the lube and everything, he let himself imagine Daniel -- those blue eyes nailing him, that soft mobile mouth sucking him, and he came before he was ready, rolling to one side and groaning into the pillows, cupping his balls, squeezing himself, the hand on his dick a blur of motion.

Saturday dragged by.

Until Daniel appeared at his door. And Daniel had certainly dressed up, confirming what Jack was sure the guy had left unspoken. Oxford shirt under a cotton sweater, soft but unworn jeans, fresh shave. Jack smiled, slung the newer of his two favorite bomber jackets over his shoulder, and came right out instead of asking Daniel in for a drink. He climbed into Daniel's Honda.

He had figured well before he saw Daniel that it wouldn't hurt a thing to treat this as the date he himself had hoped it would be. So he had dressed for it, too -- tight jeans, and the dark green button-down that did nice things for his eyes. He'd shaved again too. Honesty the best policy and all that.

Daniel picked Italian this time -- a very good locally owned place that had dark private booths and that Jack had visited before. It was a nice surprise to listen to Daniel talk to the waiter in Italian.

When they had balloon glasses of pinot grigio in front of them and the menus had been taken away, Jack shook out his snowy napkin and said, "Why Daniel Jackson. I believe you're showing off."

Daniel smiled and looked down, turning his wine glass by the stem. "I learned Italian years ago. What can you do." He kept smiling, and shrugged one shoulder.

"How did you get interested in languages?" Jack said, and no surprise, Daniel was once again willing to talk about himself. Jack heard about a childhood spent following his parents around on archaeological digs, when he wasn't being babysat by his grandparents on his mother's side. The guy was destined to study, apparently. It really was a strange twist that he'd ended up in TV.

They talked about Daniel's past, and the countries he'd visited, and the countries Jack had visited, through the presentation of their entrees and most of the meal. "And what about you?" Daniel finally said, smiling that smile that persisted in making Jack warm all over. "Why are you in this crazy biz?"

Jack smiled back. He couldn't not. "I was born in Chicago; raised in Minnesota. And what I really wanted to do when I grew up was play hockey."

"Aha. Most guys I've met in TV sports started out as athletes. What happened?"

God, could the guy's eyes be any bluer? Could his smile be any more inviting?

Jack cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. "Well, I had kind of a career ending injury my freshman year in college. Busted this arm in three places," Jack said, smoothing his left hand up his right arm. "It was never the same after that."

Daniel frowned in sympathy. "So TV was a good second choice."

"In a nutshell, yeah."

"Well. Hockey's loss was our gain. Because you have the right look, too, you know. For TV," Daniel said, and his smile got sly and his voice dropped -- became nothing less than sultry.

"Okay, now you're flirting. For real," Jack insisted, smiling.

"Yeah. Actually I am," Daniel said, and all of a sudden he got serious. He looked down at his placemat. "I hope that's okay."

"Daniel. You know it is. I already made that clear, I hope." And Jack reached across the table and put his hand over one of Daniel's. Daniel didn't move away, didn't do anything to convey shock or surprise. He just looked down, at Jack's hand over his, and pretty soon he turned his under Jack's, and gripped, and squeezed. The sudden rush of blood to Jack's dick was as thrilling as it was distracting.

The food was excellent, the wine superb, but Jack wanted nothing more than to get through the meal and get the hell out of there. He waited, and when Daniel raised his glance from their hands and looked at Jack, Jack hoped he was conveying desire. In the politest way possible, of course.

Daniel pulled in a big breath through his nose, and let it out. Without moving his hand, he turned his head, scanning the room for the waiter. Jack took his hand away to pick up his wine glass and drain it. Message received. Surely they could take this party home now? Was that too much to hope?

The waiter came. Daniel deftly and quickly put a credit card on the check and Jack let him take care of paying without a fight. Yeah. It was indeed a date. So, still in that spirit of full disclosure, he put his hand on the small of Daniel's back as they walked out.

Back in the car, Daniel turned the key to get the Honda running, then paused a minute before he put it in gear.

"Aren't you supposed to say, 'Your place or mine?' " he asked, with a curl of his lip. The white glow from the parking lot lights didn't touch his face, but highlighted his hands, which were tight on the steering wheel.

"Yeah," Jack said, keeping his voice matter of fact. Daniel looked expectant, like there had to be more. Jack raised an eyebrow. He watched Daniel's mouth. He couldn't not. He elaborated, for the benefit of that expectant expression, "One of us could say that, sure. I think if you say it, it has to do with whether you expect to stay all night. Or whether you want a chance to leave. Or whether you take dates home at all. Some people don't, you know."

"And what do you usually do?" Daniel matched his straightforward tone. It sounded like it took effort.

"Usually I go to their place. And usually I drive." Jack licked his lips. Talking about where the evening would end was making him hard. He had it so bad for this guy.

"So." It was a question. He wanted a lot on the table up front, Daniel did. Somehow Jack didn't think that was a sign of a need for control. It was something else. Something he hadn't quite put his finger on yet. Something that seemed pretty specific to Daniel.

"So," Jack answered, drawing out the vowel, all deliberate calm, "it would be fine with me if we go back to my place. We know each other already; I think we're friends. No matter how this goes, we'll be willing to work together, or we wouldn't be risking this at all." He paused, but Daniel said nothing. "Right?" Jack pressed.

"Yeah. That works for me," Daniel said, and he put the car in gear and drove.

Jack settled back in his seat, his hands in his lap. It really was a risk -- to sleep with your co-worker. It would either not change things at all on the set, or change them for the worse.

But, he thought, glancing at Daniel's profile, with its expression solemn in the flashing highway lights, right now the risk seemed really, really worth it.

Daniel pulled into the driveway at Jack's house and got out, without saying another word. He waited at the short walk that led to the front door, for Jack to pass him and unlock the door. He followed Jack in.

Jack slung his jacket over the chair nearest the door and went up the steps to the dining room and the hall. He turned.

"Nightcap?"

Daniel was coming toward him, looking determined.

"I have beer, and there should be a bottle of...."

Daniel was putting his hands on Jack's shoulders, squeezing briefly, then sliding them over and pressing against Jack's shoulder blades. Jack went with it willingly, surprised but happy. And even more turned on than he'd been in the car. Daniel kissed him. Slowly, meditatively, carefully. Like he was trying it on. Jack slid his arms around Daniel's middle and leaned in and tilted his head and kissed back. He hung back a little, interested to see what Daniel did. Daniel did careful. Daniel did soft.

It was delicious. Kissing wasn't something that always happened when Jack picked someone up, but he sure loved it when it did.

Daniel paused, his mouth still pressed to Jack's, and Jack took that as an invitation for him to do something of his own. So he slowly, gently, slid his tongue into Daniel's mouth and Daniel moaned quietly and leaned against him harder, putting weight on his shoulders and pressing against Jack's chest. Jack moaned in his turn and took the weight, pulling Daniel even closer, still kissing. He could feel Daniel's firming dick through his pants.

Kissing. Kissing was so good.

Daniel apparently agreed, because once Jack had introduced his own tongue into the proceedings, Daniel's was only too happy to participate. The sloppy exchange of sensation went on for a while. Until Jack couldn't take it anymore. He stepped back and swept his cuff across his wet mouth and husked, "Bedroom's this way." He trailed his hand across Daniel's stomach as he turned and headed up the hall. Daniel silently followed.

Jack glanced back, and reached out his hand, and Daniel's serious expression softened. He took Jack's hand.

They arrived at the bed, Jack hitting the dimmer on the wall by the door as he went by, and then he pulled Daniel in for another wet distracting kiss. He stepped back and peeled Daniel's sweater slowly up and off, and then went for Daniel's shirt buttons.

Daniel let him undo them, and then pushed out of his shirt and started on his belt. Jack stripped out of his shirt, and in just a few moments they were both stepping out of their jeans and shorts. Jack reached first, pulling Daniel close and putting his face in Daniel's neck, turning his head to mouth at the slope of his trapezius muscle.

"Ungh," Daniel said. He was hard, his erection sliding against Jack's thigh.

"Now, this was a good idea," Jack said. "Wanna lie down?"

Daniel didn't answer, just pulled away enough to find the bed behind him with his legs, and fall onto it. Jack kneed over to lie on his side, facing Daniel. He looked down. Their dicks were almost touching. Jack took careful hold of Daniel's hips -- and God, did they feel good, firm muscle and hot skin filling his hands -- and pulled their groins together. Jack's eyes squeezed shut at the intense pleasure of the pressure and the friction. He stifled an impulse to grind into the hot flesh and muscle pressing against his own.

After a moment he opened his eyes. Daniel's eyes were closed, and his face had a scrunched look of wonder and reined-in emotion. It made Jack smile a little. He liked it that he was obviously getting to the guy; that they were apparently equally attracted, equally into this. Jack asked softly, "What do you like? How can I ... What can I do for you?"

He punctuated the question with the grind of his hips that he'd been resisting since he lay down. It made Daniel pant, made him open his mouth, looking gorgeous and overwhelmed. He let a boneless hand slide down Jack's shoulder. He swallowed, eyes still closed. "You're driving. It all feels so good."

"Nungh," Jack said, brought to incoherence by the soft, ecstatic expression on Daniel's handsome face. Wouldn't do to go too fast, though, even if he could easily let this slip into a quick and dirty climax. God, Daniel had him worked up. It felt wonderful -- the heat where their skin was pressed together, Daniel's hands on him, the sight of Daniel's intent face, his red mouth.

He pulled Daniel to him again, bringing their chests together along with their hips, and he let his knee come up and slide between Daniel's legs. He put his mouth against Daniel's neck and just hung on, sliding his arms all the way around, feeling the warmth, the strength in the guy's frame, the clean smell of him, skin and arousal twining with Italian spices. He nuzzled over and found Daniel's mouth again, and Daniel jerked and pressed his tongue into Jack's mouth. Jack sucked on it, sensation blooming through him. Daniel's mouth, Daniel's insistent tongue. It was an echo, a promise, of so many other things. It was hot and intoxicating just by itself. He softened his mouth, inviting, opening wider, and Daniel followed his lead, licking into Jack's mouth, sealing their lips together, going deep.

It was drowning. It was bliss.

After a while Jack swallowed and pulled back. Daniel had said Jack was driving, but Jack wanted to keep checking in. Somehow he wanted confirmation that was he was doing was what Daniel wanted.

"There's an idea," Jack said, and licked his lips. Daniel opened his eyes, and his smile was incendiary and delighted.

"Sucking?" he said, his voice a low flirtation that sent a new jolt down Jack's spine.

"Oh, yeah," Jack said. "So, I'm still driving?"

"I'm good with that," Daniel said, seeming thoughtful now, a little wary, and his open hands stroked along Jack's shoulders, and he moved against Jack, skin against skin, chest and stomach and dick and thighs.

Jack leaned in for a quick kiss and then, hard as it was to separate from all that warmth, he rolled, reaching for the bedside drawer. He got up on one elbow to paw through the several types of condom boxes, looking for the extra thin, neutral flavored ones he wanted. Daniel's hand stayed on him, sliding to rest on his hip, then his ass. It felt friendly.

He rolled back to find Daniel leaning up on his elbow, still intent and thoughtful.

Jack smiled and scooted down the bed, bringing his knees up.

"Hey," he said, "turn the covers down, as long as you're up there," and Daniel laughed. Jack slung an arm around his hips and waited, shimmying and shifting to get comfortable on the clean sheets Daniel opened up.

When Daniel settled on his side, seeming to hold his breath, Jack tore the condom open and unrolled it over Daniel, taking his time, enjoying the touching. Daniel's dick was long and medium thick. His balls were tight. He had hardly any hair on his torso, or his groin. He was, simply, gorgeous.

Once the condom was on Jack pressed his face into that warm spot where thigh meets groin, licking the crease, and Daniel moaned. Jack slid his fingers between Daniel's hip and the mattress, and gripped Daniel's other hip, too, and then slowly, firmly, sucked Daniel's dick into his mouth. He wanted to feel it against his palate, and against the back of his throat. He closed his mouth around it, sucked and pushed.

Daniel groaned, loud and shocked, and put his hands on Jack's head. Jack's eyes closed. It never got old, feeling this. Taking in this hardness, enjoying being filled like this. Moving his hands in the rhythm he wanted, he pushed his face against Daniel, and Daniel braced for him, and then Jack was moving his head and his hands, pushing Daniel in and out of his mouth.

Daniel swelled -- the crown getting harder, the veins on the shaft getting more prominent even through the rubber. Jack's eyes wanted to roll back in his head.

"Ah," Daniel said, "ah, Christ," and Jack urged him on with his hands, urged him to move. And Daniel did -- gentle controlled shoves of his hips, in and out of Jack's mouth, which molded around him, until his dick got even harder and his hands froze, clutching, and he cried out, calling Jack's name, and shot.

Jack waited, holding Daniel's hips, his own hips twitching in sympathy. He could feel how hard he was, how turned on by going down on Daniel, how he was dripping against the sheets, his lower body slanted to give himself a little friction against the mattress.

Daniel didn't soften much, but after a second he pushed Jack's head away and pulled at his shoulders, and Jack unfolded and came right up to him. Somehow Jack didn't feel awkward about giving free rein to the cuddling, snuggling tendencies that were always just barely under the surface for him. He was a touchy feely guy; and some men just weren't. But so far tonight, the way Daniel had hugged and kissed and welcomed all the contact? Beyond the contact at the obvious erogenous zones? It made Jack feel open and affectionate. Which was a wonderful bonus.

He waited while Daniel came down, giving in to all his impulses to caress and touch. He smoothed the sweaty line of Daniel's tousled hair, along his forehead and along his sideburn. He pushed his face under Daniel's face, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth on his way by. He pushed his arm under Daniel's side, holding him close again, letting Daniel feel how turned on he still was.

"God," Daniel finally said, when his breaths had slowed. He turned his head and kissed Jack, his hand groping down and between them. His long, warm fingers skimmed over Jack's skin, exploring, and then he took hold of the end of Jack's dick and pulled, slow and not too tight, making Jack groan and flinch toward him. Delicious pressure, delicious gentle friction. Jack let his head collapse into the pillow, and kept his arms around Daniel. He opened his eyes a little. Daniel was watching his face, smiling, and he squeezed and stroked, gently but not too lightly; slowly, but not so slow as to be maddening, and Jack fell into that blue gaze and rocked his hips and let it happen.

Daniel, intent and breathless and methodical, stripped his cock, and when Jack winced and jerked, closing his eyes, and seizing, then coming, he felt Daniel's hand close and tighten around the head. Daniel squeezed him after the peak had passed, making Jack gasp and clutch at him and duck his head forward. He could feel Daniel's smile against his cheek.

"Yeah," Daniel said, lingering and sweet, still holding on to Jack's dick. He gently, firmly, stroked Jack with his own come, sending a shiver up Jack's spine and down his legs.

"Okay, you're a pretty good driver yourself," Jack pushed out. He sighed and let go and rolled to his back. He could feel Daniel looking at him. He was heavy and satisfied. It was way too much work to open his eyes. Daniel rolled to the side of the bed and Jack, fighting the sleepy haze that always came down on him after coming, heard his footsteps heading for the bathroom, then, after a minute, returning. The bed dipped and Jack flopped a hand toward him. Daniel took the invitation and eased closer as he lay down, Jack's arm fitting nicely under his neck, and Daniel fumbled the covers up.

"Stay," Jack said, pushing the word out through the sleepy bliss. "Stay all night."

"You sure?" Daniel said. Jack rolled toward him and pulled him close in answer.

~~~~

It was more kissing after Daniel got up to deal with his contact lenses, and then sleep, and sixty-nine before breakfast, and it was nearly noon when Daniel, in glasses, seeming shyer and more tentative than Jack had ever seen him, said his goodbyes. He said he'd see Jack Monday, and he drove off. Jack stood in the open door, his arms crossed, and watched the blue Honda back down the driveway.

It was all very hopeful.

~~~~

"I understand you have some sort of bombshell about the Broncos for us," Daniel said, turning to Jack and raising his eyebrows.

Jack smiled, barely registering what Daniel had said about his lead story, though it was a damn good one for a Monday, which was usually a very slow day for sports. His hearing was kind of taking a back seat to his appreciation of Daniel's half smile, the twinkling encouragement in those blue eyes, and Jack turned toward his camera and grinned.

"I'm glad you mentioned that, Daniel, because as it happens...."

In the booth, Gladys the producer pulled off her headset as Jack's second package rolled. She leaned close to the ear of the TD. "Twenty bucks says they spent last weekend together."

"Get out," the technical director said, killing her mike as she did. "How could you prove that."

"Look at them," Gladys returned. "You don't have to prove it."

"Chemistry," the TD sighed in agreement, punching up the commercial break that came after O'Neill's segment.

"Can't buy that kind of magic," Gladys sighed, and turned to her stopwatch to backtime the final news segment one more time, just in case.


	2. Chapter 2

Daniel's bed was just a regular double, almost too small for two tall men. Jack coped; it was not a problem to curl together with him instead of sprawling as they kissed and touched, plunging into in the clothes-just-came-off exploration phase of their second date.

Even though it was the second time they'd gone to bed, it still seemed surprising and somehow fresh. Maybe it was that Jack saw Daniel all the time at work in such a different, and very formal, context. Seeing him naked and without his usual controlled poise was still extraordinary. Even, dare to use the word, special.

Daniel's condominium bedroom was chilly, and the blinds were open, and moonlight filled the air with silver. It reminded Jack of nights at the Minnesota cabin, when nothing was as real or as striking as the night sky and the stars and the moon. Everything dark and shadowy and insubstantial compared to that celestial light.

Once again, Jack was allowing himself to get drunk on Daniel's skin. Daniel had cooked in, this time, and all Jack had had at dinner was a couple of beers, and now the scent and taste of Daniel was outweighing that, overwhelming Jack's senses. And though they had an enormous palette available of all the ways that men can give each other pleasure, the simple things felt so, so good tonight. Holding each other, and kissing, and stroking, hands on each others' cocks. And soon the orgasms were noisy and appreciative and inarticulate.

It really was all about the simple things, Jack thought incoherently, gasping against Daniel's shoulder. Moonlight. Pasta with tomato sauce and garlic. Cold beer. Sex with someone so warm and so alive. Simple.

"Augh," Daniel said. Or at least it sounded like that. And he shifted and turned and pulled Jack closer and Jack slid an arm under ribs and found a soft spot for his cheekbone on the muscle of Daniel's shoulder and they relaxed together, drifting in moonlight, warm under the damp covers. When Daniel started to talk, Jack tried to tune in without opening his eyes.

"I had a steady girlfriend all through college at Berkeley. Her name was Sarah, and she was a year ahead of me when I met her. She was an archaeology major. It ended amicably enough when she went back to England, which was her home, for her graduate work. But it was easy and fun and it, well, it kept me off the market, you know?" Daniel paused, and swallowed. His voice was still breathy and rough as he came down from his orgasm. He sounded tentative and tumbled and sexy as hell. But he didn't need to explain himself. Jack was fine with an explanation-less afterglow.

"Daniel," Jack began.

Daniel lifted his head a little, tensing his abs and pecs. "I know, I know -- you don't have to know all this stuff. You're not interested in the encounters from my past that have nothing to do with us; it's none of your business, you don't need the information. Just bear with me."

Jack moved, shifting his head to the pillow and off Daniel's shoulder, but keeping Daniel's arm under his neck. He slid his knee across Daniel's leg and ran a warm, reassuring palm down Daniel's smooth chest. The touches apparently did the trick, because Daniel relaxed and put his head back down and cleared his throat and kept talking.

"It started because she pursued me. I just wasn't -- I was more interested in the research and the studying I was doing than in anything else. People just kind of floated in and out of my life, and she was persistent and fun and she was great in bed and we liked a lot of the same things.

"I always knew I was bi, though -- bi or queer or take your pick on the terminology. That was something I'd figured out years earlier. But the thing is -- I never dated in high school. At all."

Jack kept his hand moving along the smooth fine skin of Daniel's chest and stomach. Daniel's nipples were still hard, and Jack swept his palm across one, then backtracked to pause atop it, enjoying the feel of the firm peak pressing into the hollow of his hand. He was listening and thinking. The vague suspicions that had been floating through his mind were coming into focus. The first time the two of them had been together? Two weeks ago? It had been the awkwardness of the morning-after sixty-nine that had allowed Jack to guess what he was almost certain Daniel was about to tell him. It had been very good -- what's not to like about willing friendly sex? -- but Daniel's technique had been ... well, he'd choked himself more than once. And he'd been way too swept away and distracted by Jack's attention to his dick and balls, to really give as good as he got. Not that Jack kept score -- nothing so crass. He wasn't complaining, just noticing. It really was all good, and Jack had gotten off and he had nothing to complain about. Plus, Daniel! Gorgeous! But it had made Jack think, and made him revisit some of the things Daniel had said earlier that same night, the night of their first date, and even before that, when they first talked about flirting.

Daniel was still talking. "I was a stereotypical bookish geek in high school, and I moved around a lot to different schools, and skipped a grade, and anyway. So, Berkeley. Sarah. Sarah went back to England, and I got used to sleeping alone again, and I was, well, busy. And so, you see..." Daniel rolled to his side and put his hand over Jack's, which was now happily thumbing a nipple. Daniel met Jack's eyes squarely.

"You're the first guy I ever slept with," Daniel said. "I hope I haven't spoiled this somehow by waiting until now to tell you."

Jack raised a corner of his mouth. He hoped it looked reassuring and not sarcastic. He was surprised, himself, at the wave of tenderness and lust that swept through him. His dick actually twitched. But it was so, so important not to overreact. He kept his voice neutral and soft. "I think I kind of figured that already," he said. "It's okay."

All that discussion on the first date about who would say "Your place or mine"? This was why. Jack was ... not taken aback, exactly. But this was not nothing. It was important. He kept his hand under Daniel's, but moved his other hand to Daniel's shoulder, petting. He held Daniel's gaze. His skin felt hot. He felt hungry for Daniel all over again. He wanted to wrap up in Daniel; wrap Daniel up.

Daniel broke their eye contact to roll to his back. "God, I should have known you'd figure it out. I'm sorry, all right? I know I'm not good in bed at all; not what you're used to. I just--"

"Hey," Jack said, getting up on one elbow so he could catch Daniel's gaze again. He wanted to smile. He tried to keep it small. "Stop it."

And Daniel stopped, meeting Jack's eyes despite his red face, not shrinking or hiding.

"It's not a bad thing at all. The opposite, in fact. It's really a turn on, and really flattering. So just stop." Jack had to let the smile loose then; feeling so happy on the inside and the outside. There was something just utterly sweet about this. It made Jack's heart swell. He wanted to burst into the "You Are Sixteen, Going On Seventeen" number from "The Sound of Music." He wanted to hug Daniel, fold him close and tell him over and over again how totally fine it was. He settled for petting and smiling.

Daniel said, "You're serious."

"Of course I'm serious. That you trusted me like that? That you want it with me? A drop-dead gorgeous guy like you? Who wouldn't be flattered?" The song was running through Jack's head even now: _"Darling sixteen, going on seventeen / I'll take care of you."_

Daniel winced, turning his head. But his hand came up and smoothed along Jack's shoulder.

"I'm just really conscious of not being able to do what you're, you know, used to."

"Yet," Jack said, and kissed his shoulder, a quick dip of his head. Daniel chuckled. "I know you gotta remember last time, don't you?" Jack purred, kissing along Daniel's shoulder and up his neck, making Daniel shiver and jerk. "Our first time? Now just tell me. What wasn't to like about that? And what wasn't to like about what we did just now? You hear me complaining?"

Daniel turned his head and caught Jack's mouth with his own. After a few breathless wet minutes, he pulled back to say, "I'm a really good kisser. At least."

"Don't I know it," Jack said, and dove in for more of that mouth. He'd had no agenda earlier in the evening when they first fell into bed; he was usually good for two and sometimes three orgasms a night, if he felt inspired and his partner was fun and he didn't drink too much. At the other end of the scale, one and some sleep was always nice, too. But tonight, but now.... He felt fizzy. Fizzy with Daniel's trust, fizzy with the novelty of this. It had been fifteen years since he'd been in this situation, an encounter when sex was so new, an unknown adventure. It made him feel young. It made him feel gentle and sincere.

They arrived on their sides again, and Jack pulled Daniel's hips against his own, gently scrubbing their still-sticky packages together, and kissed him some more. He made it as soft and deep and tender as he could. And when he pulled away Daniel was looking at him with wonder.

"See," Jack said, "it's really really good that you're willing to own up to this, because now you can start telling me everything about what you like and what you want and what you've wondered about. We can experiment a lot, and you can experiment on me." He nipped at Daniel's full and red lower lip. "It'll be fun," Jack said. He was getting excited again just thinking about it.

"Fun," Daniel echoed.

"Hot. Unspeakably, incredibly hot." Jack's voice was getting lower as actual images of possible experiments with Daniel started to play in his head. "To show you ... stuff."

"Stuff," Daniel said, laughter in his voice now.

"Oh yeah," Jack said. "You're going to love my ... stuff."

"I think I already do," Daniel said, still laughing, but there was also a new and intense note in his voice, and he turned, pushing Jack over onto his back, taking over in that way he had sometimes demonstrated a tendency to do -- the way he'd kissed Jack in his front hall on their previous date. The way he'd been the one to pick up the phone and make their dates. He pressed against Jack, using his weight to flatten Jack into the mattress, letting Jack feel it, and kissed him. Not hesitantly at all.

"Oh yeah," Jack said, when he could breathe.

"Okay then," Daniel said, equally breathless.

"So, I want to blow you again while I put my finger in your ass."

Jack could feel the jolt that ran along Daniel' s body. Daniel's eyes got wide. Daniel was still on his elbows, atop Jack, fingertips tracing Jack's cheek. "God, do you?"

"Yeah." One syllable, low and certain.

"Now?"

"Unless you don't want to." Jack was getting hard again, just thinking about it.

"Uh, okay." Daniel squinted a little. Jack couldn't figure out his reaction. Maybe it was just nearsightedness; he'd taken his contacts out before they went to bed, this time.

Jack brought a hand up to stroke the back of Daniel's head. Daniel felt wonderful lying on him; warm and heavy and smooth. "We'll need lube. Do you have any?"

Daniel blushed at that. "Um. No."

"Okay, well, Vaseline?"

"Bad choice, isn't that?"

"You mean with a condom. It's not a bad choice for what I'm thinking of doing, no."

Daniel licked his lips and nodded. "Moot point anyway. No Vaseline in the place."

"Baby oil? Ah. Kitchen oil."

"Um..."

"I saw it when you made the spaghetti sauce." Jack gently pressed Daniel's shoulders, urging him aside, and Jack got up quickly and went naked into the kitchen in the dark, and found the oil.

When he got back, Daniel was on his side, curled in a little. He had his hand over his dick, though. Jack thought that was a good sign.

"Starting without me?" Jack said, lightly, making Daniel laugh once again.

"This is... this is really exciting," Daniel said.

"Oh, yeah," Jack said, watching Daniel turn to his back and stretch. The moonlight did beautiful things to his skin. He was definitely getting hard again now. Just like Jack was.

"Stay just like that?" Jack asked. "On your back." Jack put the bottle by Daniel's knee and went to the drawer to investigate his options. He found that Daniel had a box of regular, garden-variety condoms, and luckily they weren't ribbed and they weren't flavored. Jack hated flavored rubbers. He tore one off the strip, and climbed over Daniel's knee, settling between his legs. Daniel opened them wider for him with no hesitation.

Jack watched as Daniel's dick filled a little more, lifting and getting thicker. He ran his hands up Daniel's thighs a couple of times and then kept going, bring his hands together, one hand to the shaft, one hand around Daniel's tightening balls. His dick was hotter than the rest of him, his balls cooler.

"Mm," Jack said, enjoying the touching. Daniel turned his head to the side and opened his legs wider.

"Odd sense of vulnerability here," he observed.

"Yeah," Jack said, reveling in the syllable. "In a good way, I hope.... I want to do things you like. And only things you like. Just stop me anytime, all right?"

"Not a problem," Daniel said, trailing off into a moan as Jack squeezed his now fully hard dick and moved his fist up, over the head. This was plenty fun in and of itself, and Jack didn't hurry. He stroked Daniel for a while, gently rolling his balls, and Daniel stretched and closed his eyes and lifted his bent arms to rest on either side of his head and let Jack touch him.

Jack bent down and ran his cheek along Daniel's shaft, getting a hit of his scent too, which sent another jolt right to his own dick, but putting his face there was really a little too tempting. He sat up again right away and found the condom. Daniel was hard enough now that it would be easy to roll on.

He tore it open, and at the sound Daniel opened his eyes and watched. Jack took his time with this too, making the necessity a caress. Then he rearranged his knees and held the base of the shaft with one hand, groping to make sure the bottle was still handy, while he let his mouth sink over the head and push most of the way down.

"Yeah," Daniel said, and moved his hips, just a little. Jack stroked up and down for a while, enjoying himself, but thinking too -- getting pretty turned on by thinking ahead. He stroked with his free hand along the inside of Daniel's thigh, and a warm tingle coiled in his middle when Daniel opened his legs even further, bending one knee and letting it fall to the side. Jack pulled his mouth off slowly, keeping his hand moving on Daniel's dick and enjoying the view. Not much hair here, either, just like the rest of Daniel. And he was apparently totally uninhibited about displaying himself. Jack liked that. A lot.

He put his mouth back on Daniel's cock and stroked and explored with his free hand, rubbing gently around and under Daniel's balls, teasing a little. It made Daniel go still, but not tense. Jack could tell he was completely relaxed. But his body conveyed a listening silence. The lines of muscle in his legs stayed soft, and when Jack finally circled gently in to the puckered opening, there wasn't even that subtle twitch of reluctance overcome, which Jack sometimes felt even with very experienced bottoms. Daniel wanted this. Knowing that made a rush of warmth spread through Jack's belly. At the next gentle press of Jack's fingers, Daniel groaned and tilted his hips. Jack smiled around his dick, and pulled his mouth gradually off. God, the guy was hot.

Jack kept a hand on his upper thigh, right at the swell of buttocks, kept his fingers cradled in that heat, while he pulled the bottle of oil closer. He had to let go of Daniel to open it and pour a little in his hand, but he got back to touching as soon as he could. He rubbed the oil around on his fingers one-handed, holding his hand over Daniel as he did, so that whatever dripped off wouldn't go to waste. Feeling the warm liquid hit his skin and slide down his ass made Daniel moan. Jack turned his head and pressed a kiss to Daniel's thigh. Daniel's arms were still up around his head. He looked like a cat that stopped to relax in the middle of a stretch.

The vegetable oil was a makeshift; thinner than was strictly ideal, but it would do nicely for tonight. And Jack hoped, smiling to himself, that what he was about to do would agree with Daniel so much that next time Jack came over, Daniel would be yanking drawers open to show off a newly purchased, wide selection of lube. Hell, if Jack did this right Daniel would go out and buy one of every brand in the drugstore just so they could try them all out. See which one was their favorite.

He slid his lips down again over Daniel's now very hard cock, and circled and rubbed gently at Daniel's now-slippery opening. Daniel made a louder sound in his throat, a yearning sound. Jack closed his eyes tighter and sucked a little harder and, palm up, pushed slowly in. Daniel's hole gave easily, forming itself tightly around Jack's middle finger, the oil making everything an easy slide.

"Mm," Jack said, vibrating along Daniel's shaft, and Daniel chuckled and then moaned again, a confusion of sound. Then he said, "Oh, Jack" -- but it wasn't a groan. He wasn't sounding overwhelmed yet, not the way Jack was learning he sounded when he was on the edge. It was more of an affirmation of what Jack had done. Jack slid his finger carefully back out, and circled a little, teasing the tight muscle, and then pushed back in. Daniel felt fantastic -- hot and soft and tight all at once. Daniel moaned again, louder. Moaned and pushed down with his hips. One warm hand came down to rest on Jack's shoulder.

Jack's face relaxed into the motion of sucking Daniel, keeping it steady and not too intense, as he mostly concentrated on touching him inside. His own arousal was ramping up with every sound Daniel made. Daniel was pushing steadily and gently with his hips now, matching every stroke of Jack's finger. So Jack slowed, and paused, and then pressed back in with two fingers, relishing how Daniel opened for him, how it was so tight and yet so easy. Daniel gasped. Jack had to suppress his smile. Yeah, Daniel wanted this.

Now he could get a little farther in, and based on how hard the dick in his mouth was getting, if he could get his fingertips on the gland, Daniel would come like a freight train. Soon.

He let his thoughts drift a little as he pushed into Daniel's accommodating ass, let himself imagine how Daniel would taste when he came, if it ever got to the point where they could do that -- get rid of the rubber. Whether they did or not, though, it was a great fantasy, layered onto the very real, very hot sensations, and Jack felt his own face getting hot as he concentrated and tasted and touched. Daniel was thick and warm in his mouth, tight inside the rubber.

There -- he'd reached for the gland and found it, and Daniel grunted and pushed, _give me more of that_, and oh yeah -- here it came. Daniel's moans were involuntary and surprised and his cock got so damn hard, and his hand tightened down hard on Jack's shoulder and he was coming.

Jack's body thrummed in sympathy as he felt the orgasm happen. It made Jack twitch his thigh muscles in a futile and momentary impulse to press his own legs together, his straining cock hanging there in empty air, wanting to be touched. He groaned without moving his mouth. Then his hips did twitch as Daniel pulsed around his fingers, his ass hot and slick, and shot his load into the rubber. Jack let the orgasm go on for a few seconds without moving, and then he squeezed gently, just below his lips, drawing another gasp and jerk from Daniel.

When the wave was over, Jack held it together long enough to pull his fingers slowly, carefully out, making Daniel whimper, and then he let Daniel's dick slide out of his mouth and he pushed up and in and brought his groin against Daniel's. Hard. Daniel brought his legs down and slid his arm around Jack's back, and Jack got his dick into that warm crease, slotting it in against Daniel's still-hard shaft, and he let it go, let his hips shove like they'd been aching to do since he pushed his finger into Daniel's ass, and Daniel held him tight. Jack buried his face in Daniel's neck and frankly humped him, panting, nearly out of control, coming against his skin after about half a dozen frantic ecstatic strokes.

"God, you're hot," Jack choked out, still pressing his groin against Daniel's as his climax ebbed, sliding his dick against Daniel's thigh and lower belly, his own come working as lube.

And Daniel laughed -- a beautiful, low, luxurious sound. Jack turned his head so he could get enough air to pant. He slid his knee possessively over Daniel's legs and pressed as much of his skin as he could against this amazingly warm and gorgeous man. He tried to catch his breath so he could swallow.

They were quiet, just feeling each other, just hanging on, as their pounding hearts slowed.

Daniel said, softly, his hand absently petting Jack's sweaty back, "It's really ... fun ... to feel you enjoying doing that."

"Daniel Jackson, master of understatement," Jack said, rolling to his back and grinning and putting his forearm on his forehead. He felt like cooked spaghetti. He flopped his free hand onto Daniel's chest and Daniel took it, stroking down his fingers, making Jack shiver.

Daniel sighed, long and gusty, and then he got up and went into the bathroom. Jack heard water running. He let his eyes slide closed and drifted in his afterglow. He realized he was still smiling.

He opened his eyes when he heard Daniel's footsteps, and Daniel, sans condom, got a knee on the bed and methodically swiped at Jack's groin with a warm damp towel, scrubbing a little where the come was starting to dry in his hair. Jack rested a hand on Daniel's leg and basically basked in the attention.

When Daniel took the towel back in the bathroom, Jack scooted over to the far side of the bed and pushed his legs under the covers. Daniel came back in, looking thoughtful, illuminated a little more brightly now by the bathroom light, which mixed with the moonlight without clashing. He came over to the bed and climbed up and straddled Jack without a word, sitting over him, calmly running his palms up Jack's stomach, then rubbing with a swirling pattern through Jack's chest hair. Jack slid his hands behind his head and watched him. Daniel looked up, and met his eyes and smiled, still with that calm, thoughtful expression.

Leaning on Jack's chest, he bent down and kissed him. Carefully. Softly. It was more of a goodnight kind of kiss than a "starting round three" kind of kiss, but even as late as it was, Jack wasn't entirely ready to bet on that.

"You know," Daniel said, hovering close, so that Jack could taste his breath, red wine and spices and warmth, "I have a lot to learn here. But, strangely enough, I'm good with that now. Because you know how much I love learning..." His smile was wicked. "...and what a gifted student I used to be."

Jack grinned back. "I have a feeling you are indeed a very, very quick study, Oh Mostly Straight Until Now Library Guy."

Daniel smiled against Jack's mouth, not really a kiss, then pulled back enough to continue. "In fact I'm predicting, based on recent experience, that very soon you're going to be demonstrating quite a lot of fun ... stuff ... that we can do. Together."

"Demonstrating," Jack echoed, and now he was talking against Daniel's lips.

"Mm hm," Daniel said.

Jack murmured, "Fun. Fun is good; I like fun," because it really was all about the simple things, and he wrapped his arms around Daniel's shoulders and lifted his chin to seal their mouths together again.

end.


End file.
